


and so do dreams and hearts

by nattycakes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Suicidal Thoughts, enhanced steve and enhanced bucky, get your shit together steve, lets pretend that infinity war and civil war never happened, smol steve and bucky, there is a lot of angst and then fluff at the end, waiting too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nattycakes/pseuds/nattycakes
Summary: He's kissed Bucky Barnes thousands of times after all, in his dreams.





	and so do dreams and hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so there are a lot (not really but really) mentions of Steve crashing that plane on purpose, his suicidal ideation/actions/thoughts in this. You are warned, however, if you think I need to add tags to this, please post in comments and I will, okay? 
> 
> It's almost five in the morning, this story just came to me when I realized that I have thought about kissing my crush a million times, and a million different ways, I will more than likely, continue to day dream about it, and do nothing about it. This was me getting out what I would like to happen. 
> 
> No beta, find me on tumblr jessicajonessmiled

It wasn’t their first kiss. Hell it wasn’t even their thousandth kiss. Steve didn’t have any problems with kissing Bucky. Slow sweet kisses in the morning, a sweet peck on the cheek. Sloppy kisses that led to more. Kisses that were more like hard fucks. Any type of kiss that you can think of, and some Steve didn’t even know existed. Anywhere, everywhere on his and Bucky’s body. 

There was only a small problem with them. They only ever happened in Steve’s head. 

When his body was small, and his heart was going to fail, he would keep himself alive out of sheer spite that he was never going to kiss his best friend. Bucky already got in enough trouble defending them. Okay mostly that was Steves fault. He just didn’t feel like it was fair to add on the illegal homosexual acts to the mix. He could justify keeping it to himself then. 

Hell he wasn’t even daydreaming about sex. He day dreamed about kissing his best friend. His small body fitting into Bucky’s so sweetly, he didn’t mind being frail in those moments. In the one that played the most frequently, he would be on the ground, cross legged drawing his best friend. That wasn’t abnormal. To just sketch Bucky in his suspenders and undershirt. Drinking a beer on the couch, reading one of those terrible science fiction novels about a dystopian future. 

“Buck, if this is in store for us, I don’t think I wanna see it. I can’t imagine aliens flying cars around and picking people off one by one. It’s never going to happen.” 

“That’s not the point Stevie,” Bucky paused and dog eared his battered fourth hand book, “it’s that it could happen.” 

Steve would shrug and go back to sketching. Trying to get the shade on the stubble of Bucky’s jawline perfect. 

His brain would go into overdrive though. When he would stare into space, he had courage. He would put down his pencils and stride over to him. He would rip the book out of Bucky’s hand and throw it on the couch. He’d cup Bucky’s cheeks and softly kiss him. Bucky would gently put his hands in his hair, and tug him back a bit, no pain in it, just a little tug. They would search eachothers eyes, and in that second, they’d find what they both needed, and start making out again. Soft sigh into eachothers mouths. Nothing needed to be said, they were already speaking volumes without words. 

Sometimes it would go into deeper (scarier to Steve) territory. Grinding against each other, and panting into eachothers mouths, lips barely touching. He’s snap out of it before anyone could come. Sometimes Bucky would notice and go “Stevie you okay pal? You getting sick?” with actual worry in his tone. Most of the time though, Steve would pull himself out, and start sketching quietly again, the back of his mind sure that bucky would taste like cheap beer and even cheaper smokes. And he was very sure he would be okay with it. 

 

Then Bucky joined the army. Well they told everyone he joined, Bucky was drafted. Bucky didn’t want to leave Steve. A fact that made him excited and angry. He could take care of himself just fine, thank you very much. It was just nicer when Bucky but some new salve on his back to open up his lungs (it never really worked, he just craved the touch.). He was angry that winter. Starting more fights, and get more broken noses than in previous years combined. His nose would never be the same he thought with a sigh. He wasn’t vain mind you, he just knew that his face was pleasing to look at, even if his body was a circus side show. And now his nose got him to full on freak. 

It hurt to go dancing with Bucky that last night. He was okay if they just stayed at the apartment, having one last night together. He told himself he would have kissed Bucky if he’d had that. Even he knew he was kidding himself, he just wanted to blame anything, anyone, other than himself. 

“Because you have nothing to prove right?”

Well he proved to himself he could actually take care of himself. He was finally able to join the army. He was big, and strong, and everything he already was inside his head. His body just finally matched his brain. 

For a while he was so busy he didn’t have time to day dream. It was tickling in the back of his mind, a want that he didn’t give himself. He was too busy. When he went to Italy, he actually felt good about himself for the first time in his life. He was helping. Then he got the news. There was a chance his best friend was behind enemy lines. He didn’t even think about his actions, he just did. Reverting back to his stubborn self, he would save Bucky. Not the way it’s been for entire lives up till that point. He could be useful. Return the favor.

When he found Bucky in the dark room, strapped to a table, he felt, well he felt shame. Not at the time, but later. That starred in most of his day dreaming now. During tedious war strategy meetings. He’d catch Peggy looking at him with one eyebrow raised. Bucky assumed he would be thinking about Carter a lot. A dame you didn’t just settle for, Peggy was perfect for him. Just as stubborn as he is, and a better person than him. One time she caught him staring off in the distance, she leaned and whispered in his ear, “I know.” He panicked. Couldn’t even look his best girl in the eye. “If we’re finished here gentlemen, Captain Rodgers and I have something to discuss, privately.” There were wolf whistles, and a knowing look from Bucky that almost made him sick to his stomach. 

“Steve, I know you love him.” 

“Pegs, I don’t, it’s not,” He stammered. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone. I’d love to tell you it gets better with time, it doesn’t. In this world we have to make compromises to things that hurt us. I still love you Steve, sometimes things just are out of our control.” And she walked away.

When Steve was in his quarters that night, in that moment right before you fall asleep, when the world is peaceful, and you don’t hear the bombs going off in the distance, he realized she spoke from experience. His heart broke for her. Both of them loved each other, and loved someone else. Maybe she’s just as broken as he is, daydreaming about the woman she wants to be with. He felt sick for a moment, and then a bit better. Turns out they really were perfect for each other. He just wish he was half as good as Peggy at hiding it. 

The dreams got worse. He noticed Bucky’s soft face turning hard. His jawline becoming more defined. Steve told himself it was because they were lugging around massive packs. He knew better than anyone though what Zola was doing. The serum. Bucky was strapped to that chair like a perfect lab rat. Bucky never missed a shot, everyone assumed he was just the best sniper in the United States Army. He was, no denying that, but Steve noticed he didn’t even use the scope on the rifle. They didn’t talk about it. There was time for that later, after the war. 

When he dreamed about Bucky now, they were equals. They could both hold their own and the kisses had more urgency. Like they were scared of being caught. Bucky could be five feet from in him in a trench and all Steve could do was stare at hands that could hold him down by choice now. When they talked Steve would steal glances at his lips. Thinking of how they would feel on his neck, on his collarbone, and on his hip. Would Bucky leave bruises now that they would quickly fade? Would he start by kissing his jawline, down his neck and to the base of this throat? Would he slide a leg up, in between his thighs so he could get some friction while they kissed with softly? 

That’s when he would snap out of it again, “Sorry, could you repeat that?” 

“Jesus Rodgers, I’d say when they pumped all that shit in your veins they made you stupid. I know better though, you were always were.” Bucky said with his half smile. 

Then Bucky fell. Steve can sometimes hear the screams in his sleep. It’s always there when he’s awake. Peggy would look at him sometimes, it wasn’t with pity, more like, an all knowing look. She could look in his soul and know he’d never be fully whole again. She didn’t hold it against him. She would gently rub his head, when he would lean against her, putting his head on her shoulder. He didn’t cry. He was too numb for it. 

When he kisses Peggy they both knew it was goodbye. The rest was for show really. She knew what he was going to do, she just hoped she could talk him out of it. A world without Bucky’s smile was one Steve didn’t think he could live in. His last thoughts before the crash were of Bucky, kissing his forehead, welcoming him home after a long day at work. 

When he woke with a start, hearing the wrong game on the radio, a part of him thought Bucky was going to come through the door, “Stevie, thank god I read all those trashy novels. I know exactly what to do here,”. 

Turns out the future was just as numbing as the past. Bucky would have done well in this time. He would have been fascinated and enthralled with cell phones. He would have loved all the information of the world at your fingertips. “Stevie, look I can take a picture and send it to you in seconds. Seconds.” He would be amazed. 

All Steve was really impressed with was Copic markers made a color that was the perfect shade of pink for Bucky’s lips. When he dreamed of kissing Bucky now, they would both be in tears, saying how long it’s been. It would be sweet, just staring into each other. He didn’t have feverish dreams. He didn’t allow himself too. He was barely mourning his losses. When he found out it wasn’t illegal for a man to be with another man, he would dream of them holding hands and kissing in central park. Because it wasn’t a thing you could end up beaten and in jail for. 

 

He hoped Peggy was able to be herself and not hide in this time.

Then the chitauri came. After he showered and removed alien guts from his hair, all he could think of was how Bucky would have just thrown it in his face to be right. He would have never ever lived it down. 

His thoughts then filled his newest dreams. They would be making out on the couch. Hard with kisses that had bites with them. “Just say I was right one time Stevie,” in between kisses. “Just one time, and I’ll drop it.” and smile that brighter than the sun smile at him, and kiss his nose. 

He realized he had to leave New York. He had to get out, and start living again. Bucky was gone, and if he stayed in New York he would crash the plane all over again. 

He took a job, and frankly he was a shitty spy. He was also sure Natasha had figured out what Steve was thinking of during meetings. After a brutal one with Fury that lasted about 4 hours, (3.5 hours too long, he thought), she started setting him up on blind dates. After about 4 dates, she started to suggest men. He was going to ask her how she knew, and then thought better. She was a spy afterall. She read body language for a living. It was her job. It was not however her job to find him a date, a fact he said more than once. 

“Don’t keep setting me up on pity dates Nat. I’m fine being alone.” he gritted through his teeth. 

She softened her expression, “Rodgers if this is you fine, I hate to think of you as someone to actually pity. You do deserve to have a life Steve.” 

He wasn’t proud of what he said next, but it got the job done well enough. “Well then worry about your own miserable life for a moment and quit focusing on mine.” 

Her years of training showed only a flash of anger on her face. She didn’t even say anything, just got up and walked out of his apartment. She pretended it never happened, and so did he. He didn’t apologize, instead he asked her to set him up. She did. It was a miserable experience. They had just wanted to date Captain America. He never asked Natasha again. He’s pretty sure she did that on purpose to get back at him, though he would never call her out on it. 

So he spent his Saturday nights thinking about the war. Bucky laying his head on his chest. A warm steady weight soothing him. Sometimes he would think of Bucky kissing his way down his spine. “It was perfect before Stevie, you didn’t have to become a God to fix you, you didn’t need to be fixed.” He didn’t regret his choice, he just wished he didn’t have to do this alone. When you carry a torch for someone for so long it becomes a part of you. It’s like breathing, you feel it all the time. 

Then a mission went totally fuck up. (one of the phrases he got from Stark, and would never use out loud, but secretly loved.) Fury was bleeding out in his apartment, and a masked man was on the rooftop. He was still getting used to this body. Knocking holes in walls and jumping through windows. Then the man caught the shield. He, he was shocked. Something needled in the back of his head, when he caught it after the man threw it back shoving him several feet backwards. He couldn’t place that feeling. He kept chasing it, and it kept leaving him. 

He liked this distraction from his thoughts though. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was almost enjoying knowing who he was fighting. He could avenge, he could do something again. He wasn’t just a symbol again, he was useful. His size was an advantage again. Then the fight on the bridge happened. 

Bucky. 

But not his Bucky. 

This Bucky didn’t know him. This Bucky didn’t care if he killed Steve. It got to him though he was pretty sure he knew what that prickling feeling was. The serum, the fall. Bucky had lived. He never looked for him, and Bucky had lived. 

Steve died for nothing. Hydra was alive, and so was his best friend. He crashed the plane instead of looking for the great love of his life. He hated himself. He threw himself into saving people, he knew that he would do his best to save Bucky. 

“He’s not the kind you save.” 

Bullshit, if he couldn’t save Bucky, he’d die trying. He had already tried to make it in this world without Bucky, but he’ll be damned if he has to live in a world where Bucky doesn’t even know his face. That night he dreamed of kissing the plates in Bucky’s arm, and saying “I’m sorry,” between every plate. Bucky held his face up to his, and went, “It’s not your fault Stevie, you don’t have to.” and kissed him gently. It was like he was home, and no war had taken place and they were in that small apartment, and what was that wet stuff on his face. 

Oh.   
Oh he was crying. He stopped before he started sobbing. He didn’t save him the last time, he’d damn well will try harder this time.

 

The plan was simple actually. Three chips, three ships. The first two were easy, well Sam wouldn’t say that, he could though. Even if it was showing off a bit, it’s not like he would say it outloud. He knew it was too good to last, when his best friend tried to kick him off. He half terrorfied, and half excited to see him. When he climbed the last steps before crossing the bridge to complete his mission he was going to go down with, he saw him. All of him. His hair longer, that beautiful arm. 

“People are gonna die Buck. I can’t let that happen. Please don’t make me do this.” 

That little nod from Bucky was all that was needed. He saw how Natasha had broken Clint’s broken, well heard about it, he saw the results. It didn’t work. Bucky was a savage fighter, mixing so many styles. He was a machine. He dislocated his shoulder, and put him in a sleeper hold making Bucky pass out, he thought he’d won. 

Then he was shot, and then shot again. He replaced the chip. He knew what he was going to do. He couldn’t save him, at least they would go out together like it should have been. He pulled Bucky out of the beam, praying he was wrong. 

“You know me,”

“No i don’t.” 

Another savage blow to the face with that beautiful arm, blow after blow and blow. He was dying. He knew he was dying, it was Bucky’s mission to kill him. He thought it was the perfect way to go. 

His eyes were swollen shut. “Then finish it, because I’m with you till the end of the line.” 

He didn’t get to see Bucky stop with his arm raised in the air, he was falling all over again. At least the water this time wasn’t a cold that he still felt. 

He didn’t remember being pulled from the river. He thought he was waking up in heaven, a figure beside him. If he was in heaven then why did he hurt so much? It must have been hell. He looked beside him, it was Sam. 

“On your left.” And he went back to sleep, hoping he wasn’t going to wake up this time. 

He did. He kept himself alive this time like he did when his body was frail and week. Out of pure spite. 

He moved back to New York, this time moving into the Stark Tower. He didn’t tell Tony it was so he could use his resources to find Bucky. Natasha knew again though. 

“Don’t pity me.” he said, with a frown. 

“Actually Steve, this is the first time I think I’ve seen the real you, it’s a good luck. Let me know if you want my help.” She smiled a rare real smile.

“Thanks, I will.” he said, brighting. He would never ask, but it was nice that she offered. 

His dreams started taking on a shiny quality to them now. They could be real. He could have what he desired. It wasn’t just nostalgia of a better time for him, he could have it. Instead of throwing himself into the next mission, he learned how to live. To be a real person, not just a symbol. He learned how to use his Stark phone. His favorite app was grub hub. They didn’t know that the amount of food he ordered was for him, and not for a party at his house. He liked the future, it was now something he might be able to adjust to. Not just sticking out, and not fitting in, just being himself. 

He looked for Bucky everywhere. After reading the file, he looked in Russia, he looked in the Alps, hell he looked in Peru, all the while doing local things in every city. He wanted to live for the first time since he could remember. 

One day he realized Bucky would only be found when he wanted to be found. He found some comfort in that. He started sketching Bucky’s metal hand holding his hand. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. He quit using the word someday now. He became okay with maybe never. He was okay alone, as long as Bucky was out there safe. 

His dreams took him through time. To being small, to being in the army, to being too big, to being too little. To being cared for, and caring for someone else. Every single one had a different kiss, and they were his. Maybe he was created so he could love Bucky Barnes in two different lifetimes. 

He was dozing on the couch one day, replaying his favorite. When he was small, and Bucky was holding him firmly, not like glass, kissing him on the horsehair bed. Running his hands on Steves side, settling it on his hip and pulling him closer. Wet open mouthed kisses on their sides, that left them breathless. He heard someone in his kitchen, and assumed it was Clint looking for leftovers, and was getting up to tell him there was butter chicken and naan bread. 

“Stevie, just say it one time, and I’ll let it go.” 

He knew that voice, he shot up. He didn’t speak yet, didn’t trust himself to.

Bucky ate another forkful, “Reading all those fucking trashy novels really helped you in the future, just say it one time.” 

Steve got up, walked to the kitchen, and grabbed the fork out of Bucky’s hand and set it down. Not saying anything. 

“Hey I’m sorry for uh, breaking your face there Champ, but let’s be honest, it wasn’t that much of a difference with that beak on your face,” Bucky was starting to sound desperate. 

He took the plate and set it down, put both hands on Bucky’s face and kissed him. It was really a peck, more than anything. He looked at Bucky, and said “Yeah, I guess you’re right punk. They were still awful though.”

“Well there’s no accounting for taste, jerk.” and kissed him back. Like the slow, sloppy kisses of his dreams, Bucky tasted perfect. He kissed along his jawline, to the base of his throat, then back up again. 

He heard Bucky sigh. He knew it was okay then, and as good for him. 

He smiled into the kiss, he knew it would be good. He’d been kissing Bucky Barnes for hundred years, and a thousand times. It was just the thousand and one time that was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Neil Gaiman's Fragile Things. A book of short stories that might be my favorite of all time. 
> 
> “There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.”


End file.
